


Love Like Wildness

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Neighbors AU, Smut, but definitely the smuttiest thing i have ever written, but they're still in storybrooke, modern no magic au, originally written for cs cocktoberfest 2018, possibly tame by the standards of others, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: Emma likes her life as the Sheriff of a small, sleepy Maine town. But what she *really* likes is her sometimes neighbor.They've been dancing around each other for years - until one night when "will they/won't they" becomes "they definitely will."Shameless smut written for CS Cocktoberfest 2018 on tumblr.





	Love Like Wildness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr on October 16, 2018. Original author's note below:
> 
> A/N: Hello everyone!! First off, I want to thank tumblr user initiala for creating and organizing the amazing event that is CS Cocktoberfest - it’s been wonderful seeing all of the incredible (and naughty) fics that have been posted so far, and I can’t wait to see what else is in store over the rest of the month. I also want to apologize for being slightly tardy - this fic should have posted yesterday, but I wasn’t quite able to finish editing it in time. I’m also a bit nervous about it, as it’s the first time I’ve written full-on, descriptive smut - I’m usually more of a “fade to black and leave it to the readers’ imagination” kind of writer. So this was a new adventure for me!! It’s unbeta’d, so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes that escaped my sleepy brain last night or this morning, but apologies in advance for any typos you may find. Hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Rating: M (for oral, pretty much right off the bat)

Emma Swan was no stranger to sex.

Though she’d never really made an exhaustive list of her past encounters, she realized now that she’d actually had rather a lot of it up to this point in her life.

Not that that was anything she was ashamed of - she was single, she was healthy, and she was just a few months shy of thirty two. Up until three years ago, when she’d caved to her brother and sister-in-law’s often repeated hints about wanting to see her more often and moved to the sleepy coastal Maine town she currently called home, she’d spent slightly more than a decade in Boston - in college, then the police academy, then as a proud member of the BPD.

When she hadn’t been upholding the law in Boston, she’d enjoyed letting off steam just as much as the next young, single, attractive (if she did say so herself) woman. Her dating history was sprinkled with a handful of what she’d call “serious” relationships, but considering that she’d held a job that was incredibly demanding - both physically and emotionally - she didn’t think it was surprising that she’d pretty much perfected her one night stand technique. **  
**

Her life had slowed down a little bit since she’d narrowly avoided getting shot in the line of duty a few years ago (an event that had factored into her decision to leave Boston for a less dangerous gig as much as David and Mary Margaret’s frequent nudging had) and moved to the boonies to take a job at the local Sheriff’s Department. She hadn’t wanted to get out of law enforcement entirely, so her current gig let her keep doing what she loved while also suiting her desires for a slower-paced sort of life.

An unintended side effect of her move to the charming and picturesque little town was that her sex life had also slowed down - it wasn’t as if there was a hot nightclub scene in Storybrooke, and the thought of someday potentially having to lock up a local she might’ve slept with kept her from scratching the occasional itch with anyone too close to home. Driving to Portland generally was the safer bet for a no-strings encounter, but it was a bit on the far side to make the drive too often. Mainly because she wasn’t usually a “stay overnight” kinda gal when it came to these things, and schlepping nearly an hour back home in the middle of the night was almost more hassle than the fun was worth.

Almost.

Her circumstances might’ve changed pretty drastically in the last few years, but she was proud to say that she still did alright for herself when a need arose that couldn’t be handled on her own, as it were.

And hey, she was no prude and it was the 21st century - she was as sex positive as they came.

(Pun very definitely intended).

But for all of her so-called wealth of experience, she’d never had sex that was quite this…well, she didn’t really  _have_ a word for it, but amazing, all-encompassing, and overwhelming were all good candidates.

 _Mind-blowing_ , her brain oh-so-helpfully supplied before she was pulled back under another wave of sensual pleasure that robbed her of coherent thought. It was far more intense than anything she’d felt with any of her previous partners, like,  _ever_.

 _This can’t be real_ , she thought, a giddy laugh threatening to bubble its way out of her as she lay on her back and gazed up at the inky sky of a Maine summer night. The breeze coming off the harbor a few miles away was gentle and fairly warm, but the feel of it skittering over her skin still served as a stark reminder that she was currently lying on a soft blanket dead in the center of her backyard - completely, utterly, and one hundred percent naked.

_Really, Emma? Not just completely naked, but completely naked and being eaten out by the ridiculously hot neighbor who’s just here on vacation and who just came over to fix your pipes._

The laughter was back, this time with a slightly manic edge to it as it suddenly hit Emma that her life had taken a random left turn after dinner that evening and abruptly morphed into a scenario ripped straight out of a cheesy porno.

“Something amusing, love?” His voice was low, the accent rougher than usual, but it still floated up to her with perfect clarity despite the fact that it issued from someone whose head was currently buried between her thighs. “Laughter isn’t exactly what a bloke likes to hear when he’s making his best effort at this sort of thing.”

“Nn-no-ohh,” she stuttered out on a sigh, glancing down over the expanse of her own body. Her eyes traced fleetingly over her curves - taking particular note of the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she gulped in quick, shallow breaths - before meet the unblinking blue of his gaze. Though his words had been serious, his eyes held a twinkle of mischief that was echoed by the quirk of one of his overly expressive eyebrows.

He’d momentarily pulled his mouth away from her in order to talk, but she could feel that he’d replaced his lips with a couple of his fingers - which were doing something that should be fucking illegal it felt so good - and the sensation was almost overwhelming. “I…I j-just never thought that this was ho-how tonight was going to end up. Ohhhh!” she couldn’t help but cry out when he hit a particularly amazing spot inside her.

(She would’ve been worried about scandalizing the neighbors with the noises she was making, but the backyard of her little cottage bordered on a wide empty field at the far end, which then bled into a bit of lightly wooded territory. Her neighbor on one side had listed their house for sale three months ago before packing up and moving to California, and her neighbor on the other side…well…he’s the reason she’s turning into a quivering, near-orgasmic puddle of goo while naked on a blanket in her backyard in the first place).

“Hmm,” he hummed almost to himself, turning his face slightly so that his stubble scraped gently back and forth across the delicately soft skin of her inner thigh, all while his fingers never stopped their torturously perfect movements inside her. His eyes never left hers as he replied. “I can’t say I did either, love, but you’ll not find me complaining,” he murmured before ducking his head and letting his tongue flick lightly over her hypersensitized nub a few times until her hips were bucking uncontrollably against his face. He continued to wind her up slowly but steadily - his long, dexterous fingers keeping up a seemingly never-ending pattern of thrusts and twists while his mouth kept up an increasingly rapid fluttering over her clit.

“I never sai-said I was complaining,” she gasped, her voice nearly turning into a squeak as he curled his fingers one at a time and oh-so-slowly. He just winked cheekily back at her and did it again. “I was just sss-surprised.”

This time, he didn’t respond - at least not out loud - instead seeming to double-down on his efforts in an attempt to drive her absolutely crazy. The tension was winding so tightly within her, every muscle coiled and taut, that Emma lost almost all awareness of anything other than the motions of his lips and hands. Her fingers had threaded into his hair, holding him firmly against her, before she’d really noticed what she was doing. Similarly, her other hand had found its way up to her chest without her really remembering it moving - trailing across her skin, palming her breasts in turn, and intermittently toying with her own nipples.

Her own heavy breathing, mingled with the muffled, yet decadent, sounds of his enjoyment of her, registered in a hazy sort of way - as if they originated from two other people - so lost was she in the sensations he was evoking in her.

But as if he intuited that she was on the brink of an absolutely brain-melting, earth-shattering, world-rocking climax - he abruptly pulled his mouth away, and slowed his fingers till they were barely moving. Emma could have screamed in that moment - and not from pleasure.

“Emma,” his voice sounded hoarse, like it was being pulled slowly from the very depths of his chest. When she finally managed, with not insignificant effort, to blink her eyes open and look back down at him, he looked just as wrecked as he sounded. For the space of a heartbeat or two, they simply stared at each other - blue eyes boring into green with an intensity that spoke not only of their evident and mutual lust and attraction, but also of something far deeper.

Something that had flared to life between them not long after they’d first met two years earlier.

Something that they’d barely ever spoken about, and had never acted upon - not  _really_.

Not until tonight.

What Emma saw in Killian’s gaze at that moment was every single thing she knew was reflected in her own - longing, hope, affection, admiration, and more. Specifically, she thought she could see hints of a feeling -  _the_ feeling - that even now she was just a tiny bit terrified to name.

The right corner of his mouth kicked up in a smirk that was still somehow soft around the edges, and for a moment Emma thought he was going to say something deep and heartfelt. But then the smirk turned wicked. “Just…just, trust me…and let go, love,” he murmured so softly she barely caught the words, before ducking his head back down and sucking her clit into his mouth, pulling rhythmically with the soft strength of his lips while his tongue rubbed oh-so-slowly back and forth against her. His fingers sped up in tandem with his mouth, but continually changed their pattern and speed, tantalizing her every time that she got close to exploding - and just when Emma thought she’d never find that release she was so desperately seeking, he stilled his fingers completely and sucked once more -  _hard_.

The contrast between the stillness and the friction was so marked that she flew over the edge instantly, screaming her pleasure into the otherwise silent Maine evening. Her voice echoed slightly as it faded away into the darkness beyond the field and the empty houses on either side of her yard, and Emma gulped in deep breaths of night air that had just started ever-so-slightly to cool. Killian slid up a little bit, lying with his head pillowed on her stomach and his body draped over the lower half of hers, warding off the chill that was starting to set in.

The first thought that entered her mind when she’d gotten to the point where she felt at least vaguely coherent was something along the lines of  _Oh my **God** , I’ve never come that hard in my entire frickin’ life_. There might have been a  _holy **crap**_ or two thrown into her inner monologue for good measure.

Instead of voicing those particular thoughts, however, she proceeded to wrap her left arm loosely around Killian’s shoulders while pushing her hair back out of her face with her free hand. She stayed quiet at first - partly because she was still speechless from their encounter, but partly because she didn’t know what to say now.

Killian seemed content to lie there in silence for a few moments as well, letting her trace her fingertips in aimless patterns over his shoulder blades while he wrestled his breathing back into submission. After awhile, only soft exhalations brushed her skin, skimming along her stomach and the underside of her breasts - they combined with the now crisp night time air, and Emma couldn’t help the full body shiver that raced through her.

“Hey, um,” she started, sliding her hand up from its position on his back in order to lace her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She tugged gently, and he turned his face until his eyes met hers, though his cheek was still pressed into her stomach. The gentle tickling scratch of his stubble as he moved drawing a breathless laugh out of her involuntarily, which in turn triggered the sleepy smile that stretched across his face. He looked so happy she almost forgot what she was going to say. “Um, do you maybe want to stick around? But uh, y’know, indoors? ‘Cause it is suddenly freezing out here.”

His grin, impossibly, got even bigger. “Is that your way of asking me if I’ll spend the night with you? Perhaps looking for a bit more ravishment, hmm?”

She rolled her eyes and pretended to push him away, but he caught her hand easily and threaded their fingers together. She didn’t protest when he pulled her closer, moving himself up her body so that they were eye to eye. Instead, she merely leveled the best glare she could muster under the circumstances (though even she knew it couldn’t be  _that_ convincing, her own happiness trying too hard to shine through every time she looked at him). “I can take the offer back if you’re going to be an ass about it.”

He shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “I wouldn’t dream of it love.” There was something infinitely soft in the look he was giving her, lurking under the teasing glint in his eye. She had the sneaking suspicion she was looking at him in pretty much the same way.

After simply gazing at each other for a long, charged moment, Emma finally regained her voice, breaking the tension between them with a smirk. “So, how about it? Gonna take me upstairs and ‘ravish’ me properly, then?”

Killian’s grin turned from mischievous to downright wicked before he pushed himself up to standing, reaching down in one fluid - and insanely hot - move to scoop her up into his arms. As he carried her up the steps of her back porch, leaving her clothing scattered over the lawn, he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Oh darling, there’ll be nothing proper about it…but I thought you’d never ask.”

-/-

_Emma was leaning forward, hunched over the flowerbed that runs the length of her backyard fence, when she first heard a thumping sound coming from somewhere on the other side of said fence. At first, she let it go - the O’Callaghan’s dog Molly has been acting up lately, running away from home three times this week alone. Maybe she’d made it into the neighbors’ backyard and knocked something over. Knowing that the feisty Irish setter usually made her own way back home before long, and so deciding not to worry too much about it, Emma turned back to pulling the weeds from in between her succulents, getting lost in the rhythm of her tasks and smiling to herself as the scent of fresh loam hit her nose._

_She’s always loved gardening - it’s the one utterly normal and domestic thing in the rollercoaster ride her life has been. Baking? She loves enjoying the end result of someone else’s kitchen endeavors, but the process of making her own goodies has never been her favorite thing. Crafting or knitting? She’d never had the time - or the patience - to learn. Her life in Boston had rolled along at a breakneck pace most of the time._

_And cleaning? You’ve got to be kidding, right?_

_But gardening was different - there was something about the experience of really digging deep into the earth, readying it for planting, and seeing the hard work from all of your efforts literally grow right before your eyes. She got a level of satisfaction from it that few other things brought to her - and now that she finally had a big backyard of her own, she’d been indulging in her favorite hobby every chance she’d gotten._

_Over the year since she’d moved into the cozy slate blue cottage with the white trim, she’d worked hard to transform the backyard from an overgrown tangle of weeds into something that made her glow with pride every time she looked at it._

_There were succulents in the beds lining the fence that enclosed the yard, a flourishing vegetable garden in one corner, an herb garden in another, hydrangea bushes along the porch, and right in the center a flower bed featuring all of her favorite varieties. She’d worked a similar sort of magic on the front yard as well, though there the focus had been mainly on succulents and roses._

_Emma weeded for another few minutes before the thumping returned. She idly thought that if it went on for too much longer, she’d go over and try to corral Molly before she could do any damage to the Joneses’ patio furniture - she **was** meant to be keeping an eye on their house while they were away, after all. But then the cursing started, and she realized that whoever was on the other side of the fence was decidedly  **not** Molly._

_Her law enforcement instincts kicking in, she realized that someone must be attempting to break into the house next door. Wishing idly that her gun wasn’t upstairs in its safe, and knowing she wouldn’t have time to go get it, she grabbed the nearest garden implement she could put her hands on and stood up slowly and quietly._

_Creeping towards the fence, she pushed up on her toes to get a peek over into the Joneses’ yard. Sure enough, a man with dark hair was bent over near the doorknob - possibly trying to pick the lock, she thought - and muttering under his breath. When whatever he was attempting failed, he cursed again, and kicked the door for good measure._

_Emma didn’t wait any longer to intervene. She crept towards her house, and slipped through the gate in the fence before passing as silently as possible through the Joneses’ gate and carefully making her way along the side of their house. As she rounded the corner of their back porch, she brandished her impromptu weapon of choice in front of her and confronted the intruder head on. “Hey, you! Whatever you’re trying to do, I’d stop right now if I were you.”_

_The stranger straightened up - he appeared to have moved on from the door to searching for something in the giant trunk Emma knew that Elsa kept at one end of her porch for storing blankets and extra throw pillows. He turned and met her glare with an amused look, pointing at the garden tool she was holding. “Or what, exactly? You’ll pot and water me, love?”_

_“Not your love,” she said flatly, gripping her trowel more firmly. Something tickled at the back of her brain - a feeling that this stranger was familiar, that she should somehow know who he was - but that was impossible. She would’ve remembered meeting a cocky (gorgeous, her inner voice corrected) Brit with bright blue eyes, an infuriating smirk, and too much sass for his own good. Ruthlessly, she shoved the sensation of familiarity down and held her trowel more firmly in front of her. “I’m a deputy with the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department, and I’m about to arrest you for breaking and entering.”_

_The stranger had the audacity to look even more amused, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against one of the pillars that lined the Joneses’ porch. The annoying feeling that he vaguely reminded her of someone increased, but she again shook it off. “Ah but I haven’t broken anything, as you can see,” he gestured around him at the porch furniture, which, while a bit out of place, was indeed all intact. “And,” he pointed at the door, “I haven’t been able to enter, either. So I don’t know if you’d have much of a case on either count, deputy.”_

_Emma refused to be daunted (or visibly charmed) by either the stranger’s clear amusement or his seemingly effortless charisma. She’d not been on duty today, but given the circumstances, it looked like she’d be making a trip to the station anyway. “Okay, yeah, you clearly think you’re clever - but I **am** going to have to arrest you.”_

_He shook his head slightly, a disbelieving laugh (that Emma found way more attractive than she knew she should) escaping him. “I don’t think my brother would be too pleased with either of us if you actually do that. Please, lass, since nothing actually happened and this is my brother’s house…can’t you make an exception…just this once?” And with that, he turned an unfairly persuasive set of puppy eyes on Emma that made her suck in a deep breath._

_Well that’s just not playing fair, she thought to herself._

_But then his words registered, and suddenly Emma knew where she’d seen him before - in any number of photographs in the Joneses’ house. In Emma’s defense, even the most recent of those photos were a couple of years old, and in the heat of the moment her brain hadn’t immediately made the connection._

_She’d never actually **met** Killian until now - over the past year that she’d lived in Storybrooke, it seemed that every time he’d visited, she’d been out of town. The one time she’d been home when he’d planned to visit, something about his plans had changed and he’d not ended up coming after all. But she’d certainly spent enough time with Liam and Elsa that she’d heard a lot about him. Despite that, he somehow defied every expectation she’d had of what he’d be like._

_“Wait - you’re Liam’s little brother?!” she exclaimed, letting the hand holding the trowel drop back to her side. “You **are**!!”_

_He looked a bit disgruntled as he replied. “Aye, Killian Jones at your service, lass.” Now that the tension between them seemed to have eased, and the threat of being arrested seemed to have evaporated, Kilian jogged down the porch steps and crossed the lawn to where Emma stood. “History professor currently based in New York, sailing enthusiast, and **younger** brother to the git who lives here,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of Liam and Elsa’s house before extending his hand to clasp hers._

_The warmth of his fingers as they shook hands sent a spark racing up Emma’s arm that nearly immediately manifested itself in the pink that bloomed across her cheeks. The feeling threw Emma off-balance, and she returned his handshake somewhat more tentatively than she normally might’ve. “Well,” she said, trying to regain a bit of her usual composure, “I’m Emma Swan, and you already know what I do…and I’m your brother’s neighbor. Uh, obviously,” she murmured, pointing back at her own cottage._

_Just at that moment, something occurred to her, and she tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Wait…what are you doing here? Liam and Elsa didn’t say you were coming - you know they’re not here right now, right?”_

_Killian nodded, releasing her hand and sliding both of his into the front pockets of his jeans. It was absolutely ridiculous, given the brief amount of time she’d known him, but she already missed the feel of Killian’s callused fingers against hers. “I know. They didn’t say because they didn’t know I was coming - hell, I only knew I was coming yesterday. The conference I was presenting at finished a few days early as one of the key presenters fell ill and I thought…well, I thought that I’d drop by and take advantage of the solitude for a few days before having to head back to work and start prepping for the fall semester.” He chuckled sheepishly and reached up to scratch behind his right ear. “Didn’t count on not being able to find their spare key though.”_

_Emma felt the heat on her face increase and knew she was blushing even harder. “Uh, that would be because I have it. They asked me to pop in every couple of days and check on their mail and plants.” She looked up at him and tried to infuse as much sincerity as possible into her tone. “I’m sorry. Both for inadvertently locking you out and, uh, threatening to trowel you.” She raised the implement in question and gave it a shake for comic effect. Thankfully, he laughed along with her._

_“Not a problem, lass,” he said, smiling warmly. “But if I could have the key? I’d love to get in and take a bit of a nap. I drove straight from the Portland airport after flying from Los Angeles, and I think that I might only be able to manage a few more minutes on my feet before keeling over into the nearest shrub if I don’t get inside soon.”_

_“Oh! Of course!” she exclaimed. “I’ll just run in and get it - and again, sorry!” She dashed back to her backyard, dropped the trowel near where she’d been working, and sprinted inside to get the key to Liam and Elsa’s house from the peg in her kitchen. On her way back to their yard, an idea occurred to her. When she got back to Killian, he was leaning against the porch pillar again. His arms were crossed over his chest and eyes were closed, but he opened them when he heard her footsteps approaching._

_“Thanks, lo-…Emma,” he said, reaching out to take the key from her._

_“No problem,” she replied, dropping it into his outstretched hand. “Hey, I was thinking - if you’re hungry after your nap, why don’t you let me take you to dinner at Granny’s? It’d be my way of making it up to you for locking you out, and, you know, the trowel incident.”_

_He smirked at her again, a spark returning to his sleepy eyes. It was a look that really ought to be outlawed, and she had a sneaking suspicion he knew its power very well. “Why darling,” he murmured, one of his eyebrows arching as he leaned closer to her, “if you’d wanted to ask me out, you needn’t be so coy.”_

_She rolled her eyes and propped her hands on her hips. “Easy there, tiger. It’s not a date, it’s an apology. Besides, I’ve been working in my garden all afternoon and am going to be seriously hungry. What d’you say?”_

_His seductive smirk melted into something much more genuine, before he replied softly. “I say I’d love to, Emma.”_

-/-

Emma drifted into consciousness slowly, thankful for the warmth of her duvet as a light summer breeze ruffled the curtains at the window and reached across the room to her bed. Though this particular morning, she had another source of warmth that she was even more thankful for - the gentle strength of Killian’s arm where it lay across her middle, his hand curled up to gently cup one of her breasts. His legs were tangled with hers, and if she concentrated very hard, she could feel his chest hair tickling against her back as he breathed deeply, still lost in sleep.

She lay there quietly for several long moments, replaying memories of their first meeting in her mind, and thinking of the past two years and the wonderful friendship they’d developed. Due to the nature of his work schedule, he still didn’t get to visit Storybooke more than a few times a year - usually at the holidays - but whenever he did, he made sure to spend at least a couple of days just with her, in addition to visiting his family.

Once or twice, she’d flown down to New York to spend time with him during the school year when it was hard for him to get away. For at least part of each summer, he’d taken over house-sitting for his brother while Liam followed Elsa on her annual research trips to one archeological dig or another. When they weren’t together, they texted and called each other regularly, and Facetimed when they could.

He’d really become one of her very best friends - and she’d developed a closer friendship with Elsa and Liam as a bonus as well. But her friendship with Killian had always been a little bit… _different_ …to her friendship with her neighbor-Joneses.

In that, underneath the very real bond of friendship, she’d always kind of wanted to fuck Killian’s brains out - and had thought that he’d felt the same about her. (Though, if she were being fully honest with herself it wasn’t just physical on her part - she’d been developing real feelings for Killian for quite some time, and she’d kind of thought he’d reciprocated those too).

 _Apparently, I thought right - on both counts_ , she mused, not able to hold back the slow smile that spread across her face at the memory of what had taken place in her backyard the previous evening. And again in her bed later on, when she’d had a chance to reciprocate the favors he’d bestowed on her with his mouth before they came together in a coupling that had been by turns languid and frenetic. Her arousal started to flare to life again the longer she let herself get lost in her memories.

She also remembered what had finally pushed them over the edge and led them to stop dancing around each other and just go for it. They’d been sitting on her favorite blanket, sharing a couple of beers after he’d come over to fix the leaky pipe under her kitchen sink, when he’d turned to her suddenly, his eyes somehow still shining a brilliant blue even in the dim glow thrown by her porch light.

_“I’ve a bit of news, Swan,” he said, hesitating slightly before speaking. “Good news, I think…or, rather, I hope it’s good.” He fumbled with his empty beer bottle, nearly dropping it before setting it off to the side of the blanket and looking back over at her. “Or, more precisely, I hope **you’ll** think it’s good.”_

_“Killian!” she cried, exasperation coloring her tone. “Just spit it out already! You’re making me nerv-”_

_“I got a job. Here. I got at job here.” He spoke quickly, the words leaving him in a rush. “Or, well, close enough to here. You’re looking at the newest member of the History Department at the University of Southern Maine.”_

_“In Portland?” she asked, though she could’ve kicked herself for sounding like an idiot, because she knew the answer even before he’d nodded in reply. Then something else occurred to her. “You’re moving here?! Killian, I thought you loved your current job. Why would you give that up?”_

_He looked at her solemnly, eyes impossibly soft as his hand reached out and he interlaced their fingers. “Emma…don’t you know the reason?”_

_A moment later, she found herself tumbling backwards onto the softness of the blanket as Killian followed her down. Slowly closing the distance between them, he breathed the answer to his somewhat rhetorical question into the infinitesimally small gap between their lips. “It’s you.”_

_Everything after that had been a very pleasurable blur…_

She was pulled from her - decidedly happy - reverie when the arm around her waist tightened ever-so-slightly, and Killian’s legs tangled even more thoroughly with hers. His scruff whispered gently against her bare shoulder before his lips placed the softest of kisses there. She turned in his arms to meet his sleepy gaze with a smile. “Good morning, love,” he murmured.

“Yes,” she sighed, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes, before sliding her hand back to settle in what was rapidly becoming her favorite spot at the nape of his neck. Nestling closer to him, she stretched up to press a quick kiss to his smiling mouth before pulling back, her own smile growing bigger. “It is.”


End file.
